


The Way I Was For You

by Hildigunnur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hildigunnur/pseuds/Hildigunnur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Dean might be going to hell but that doesn't stop Sam in comforting him.</i> Set in Season 3 between <i>Long-Distance Call</i> and <i>Time Is On My Side</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way I Was For You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://my-sam-dean.livejournal.com/profile)[**my_sam_dean**](http://my-sam-dean.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/samdeanexchange/profile)[**samdeanexchange**](http://community.livejournal.com/samdeanexchange/).   
> My everlasting gratitude to [](http://sigrundora.livejournal.com/profile)[**sigrundora**](http://sigrundora.livejournal.com/) for the beta and being grammar HBIC in general.

In slumber, Dean's habits are quite set. He either sleeps on his back, especially when he falls asleep without meaning to, or on his stomach. Maybe some time during the night, he might half-roll onto his side but he never sleeps like that.

This is the second night running that Sam is staring at Dean's back, hearing his breathing which never slows down enough. Sam knows why his brother can't find sleep, even after downing half a whiskey bottle.

He can almost see the hope seep away from Dean and he would gladly kill the crocotta again, just to give his brother that glimmer of hope again, and for the audacity to use their father's voice.

Dean is afraid and he has admitted that much to Sam but he hasn't opened up. Dean is always burying everything down, making everything hurt more instead of dealing with it. Though Sam isn't really sure how anyone would ever deal properly with the fact they are on a fast track to hell. But he has the need to be actively helping Dean, to reach Dean because otherwise he's going to lose the little that is left of his sanity. Otherwise it will start to feel like those hundred Tuesdays in Broward County.

Waiting for Dean to share – he'd have better chance waiting for the earth to stop turning. He has to do something and desperate times do call for desperate measures, as cliché as that might be. Things are already fucked up between them. Dean is going to hell for him so whatever Sam can think of, would just be another stepping stone in the long and winding road of the Winchester dysfunction.

Trying to make as little sound as he possible can, he gets up off his bed and creeps over to Dean's bed. There's barely room for him on that bed but he is determined. Dean must hear him tiptoeing but he hasn't stirred nor does he move when Sam slides into his bed, trying to fit on the sliver of bed that Dean's not lying on. He feels how stiff and still Dean is, like he's holding his breath but he isn't trying to inch away from Sam. They both lie still for minutes, no sound other than their breathing.

He snakes his arms around Dean and feels him stiffen even more but he's not pushing him away, he is not telling him to let him go. With his chest touching Dean's back, he lays his hand over his brother's heart, just beneath the protective tattoo. Dean's heartbeat soothes him, tells him that he still has time to save his brother, that he's still there, that Dean is his first priority, that Dean's life does mean something.

In Sam's mind, the universe slowly shrinks down to the two of them lying there on the bed, the only things in existence are their hearts beating. This is all they have now.

"I'm here," he whispers, his lips touching the back of Dean's neck, the heat of the skin beckoning him to press his lips there. He indulges in feeling Dean's smooth skin under his lips. And Dean exhales loudly like he's been holding his breath though he's still not moving. Sam knows that Dean would stop him if he wanted so he dares to pepper little kisses along Dean's shoulder. His hand still lies above Dean's beating heart. He has an urge to lick Dean's neck; to taste the skin which he's sure will be salty and maybe a little bit sour from Dean's drinking. Edging whatever this was into the sexual; into taboo territory.

Sam isn't afraid of that. It is simply another line for the Winchesters to cross for each other.

"Dean," he whispers again into his brother's ear. "Dean, you can."

Turning around, Dean seems to have been waiting for Sam's consent. They are face to face and Sam can see that Dean is letting his guard down, his eyes have turned soft and unfathomably deep.

"Sam", Dean says on the exhale, "I… I…"

Afraid his brother is going to bolt, Sam grabs his shoulders.

"I mean it." He hopes that Dean understands, that he's offering to be there for Dean, no matter in what way Dean needs him. He can crawl into his arms, cry on his shoulder and if Dean wants, he can have him.

There's no need for him to repeat himself. Dean takes Sam on his word and pushes on his chest, pushes him down to the bed and looks at him, his eyes brimming with a look that Sam can't really decipher.

And then Dean crushes his lips to Sam's. A hard, bruising kiss and Sam feels his lips catch on his teeth, almost enough to draw blood but neither him nor Dean think about that 'cause the kiss grows in intensity, Dean opening Sam's mouth, licking it open and they breathlessly gasp into each other's mouths. No finesse to it, yet it's the best kiss Sam has ever felt. He feels the vitality burn in Dean's veins through the kiss and that's all he can ask for, to know that Dean hasn't given up completely.

Dean breaks the kiss and looks down at Sam. There's a wordless question hanging between them and Sam wants to scream _yes, yes_. Dean may take him, he can have him and it's something that Sam longs to give his brother; all of him.

Dean seems to understand. He pulls Sam's t-shirt up, exposing Sam's broad chest and he splays his deft fingers over it. Sam can feel the callous skin of Dean's hands over all over his torso, his stomach, down his hips. The pads of Dean's thumbs move down Sam's groin, dancing around his cock which is half-hard already.

"Dean, want me to...?" The question dies on Sam's lips when he sees the hungry look in Dean's eyes, telling him that he's Dean's to enjoy for the moment. He gives himself up, pliant but responsive and he savors Dean's every touch, every trail of Dean's lips on his skin, all the tiny nibbles Dean's taking, reddening his skin ever so slightly. Any second thought that creeps into his mind is pushed away because he wants this so bad and Dean deserves this if he wants it. And god, Sam is glad that he wants it, especially when Dean nuzzles his dick, mouths at his balls, his breath hot on the sensitive skin.

When Dean takes him in his mouth, Sam tries his best not to arch up, careful to allow Dean to have control. Teasing him, Dean licks up the underside of his cock and around the ridge of the head, driving Sam crazy. If he was the one in control, he'd beg and plead for Dean to either suck him all down or simply to fuck him. But Dean seems to take delight in slowly torturing him, make him grow so hard that he almost whimpers from the ache.

Dean pushes up and crawls back up Sam's body to claim his lips in a kiss, letting Sam taste himself. There's definitely something swimming in Dean's eyes that Sam hasn't seen for a long time and he feels a warm jolt in the pit of his stomach.

"I want to fuck you," Dean breathes into his ears as he breaks the kiss. Sam wants to scream his consent aloud but settles for the smallest of nods.

Dragging his right index finger over the seam of Sam's mouth, Dean pushes it in, making Sam suck on, the middle fingers as well. Sam feels how his mouth waters, in his mind he's sucking on Dean's cock. But he wants to be fucked so he lets Dean's fingers slide out of his mouth, wordlessly mouthing to Dean to go ahead and prepare him.

He inhales deeply as Dean's spit-wet fingers slide down the cleft of his ass, touching the furled muscle hiding there. Dean breaches him with one finger and immediately Sam craves more, keening to his brother to open him, to fill him. But Dean seems to be made of super-human restraint, taking his time stretching him, waiting patiently for the muscle to give away. The urge to scream at Dean just to take him already almost overwhelms Sam but he knows that he can't push Dean; he doesn't have the right to demand.

With a nudge, Dean gets him to push his legs apart as Dean slides a bit down. He hooks Sam's long legs over his shoulders and Sam grunts as he feels his body contort, his ass lifting up from the bed. Dean pulls at his hips as he lines up and Sam inhales a big gulp of air as Dean finally enters him. Even then, the bastard is in no hurry while Sam feels like he all strung out like a drawn-out bow, ready to snap. Dean fills him slowly and the stinging pressure pain adds to the tension already coiling inside Sam. It keeps on building as Dean almost tentatively starts to thrust. And Sam has to pull Dean's head down for a kiss to drown out the urge to downright shriek. He feels Dean smile into the kiss like he knows exactly what's going on in Sam's head.

Just when Sam thinks that Dean is going to drag this out forever and make him explode with frustration, Dean sinks his fingers into Sam's hips and starts pounding him so hard that Sam can't help the noise he makes, grunting as his brother slams into him. He is a mess of conflicting sensations, pain and pleasure mixing in with all the emotion he's feeling and he can't suppress, not now when he has given himself up to his brother, not when he longs to be able to somehow anchor his brother to him so he will never lose him.

"Are you going to come for me, Sam?" Dean whispers just as Sam is arching up, seeking some friction. Grabbing his cock, Dean starts jacking Sam in rhythm with his thrusts. Sam's mind is wiped blank as he feels the tightly wound bundle of tension, lust and love erupt inside of him, flaring out to his limbs, to the very tips of his toes and fingers. All his senses seem altered so he doesn't know whether it's him who is crying out loudly. Yet he's aware of the solid mass of his brother and he knows, rather than feels that Dean is coming as well.

He winds down and everything falls into focus. The weight of his brother pressing down on him, the sweet lingering effects of his climax and a vague discomfort in over-worked muscles; the startling green of Dean's eyes.

"So," Dean begins, "we fucked."

Sam stays silent; feeling depleted when Dean has pulled out and twists away from him. He feels a weight in his hammering heart, fears that Dean regrets what has happened, fears he will hate himself even more and give up completely.

The silence stretches between then and Sam doesn't dare to look at Dean, knows he can't face seeing Dean revert to his old self. So he lies completely still.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice is strangely small and Sam has to choke something back before turning to face his brother.

Dean's face is open and bright. The shadows are still behind his eyes but Sam feels reassured. He reaches over and pulls Dean down for a kiss. With Dean's pliant lips on his in the softest of kisses, an unwavering resolve forms inside Sam; a resolve born out of his desperation and love. A resolve which hardens as they resume their lovemaking and Sam sinks into his brother, murmuring secret promises about saving him, his lips drifting over the juncture of Dean's neck and shoulder.

He is going to be there for his brother forever and nothing else really matters at all.

-fin


End file.
